Friday, November 6, 2015

A Sexy Sample from Chapter 7 of "The Higher Learning Curve."

As soon as Priscilla turned her key and walked inside of her home, she was greeted by the overwhelming aroma of one of her husband’s expensive Cohiba Espendido cigars. She shut the front door behind her and slipped out of the shoes that had been squeezing her feet, eager to sink her sore toes into the soothingly soft fibers of the plush, beige carpet that covered the entire expanse of her spacious living room.
     “Hey Sweet P,” Charles greeted her from where he lay on the sofa with his feet up. He was a tall man so his legs extended over the arm of the sofa and hung over the edge. The wispy cloud of smoke he had just exhaled floated above his face and rose towards the ceiling.
     Priscilla hated when he smoked inside the house but she smiled and chose not to make a fuss about it, especially not after he had just affectionately called her “Sweet P.” She loved that. Most of the people who had ever heard him call her that naturally assumed that it was an innocent term of endearment, a nickname derived from the P in Priscilla but, the naughty inside joke between them was that Charles was really referring to a particularly sexually explicit word that also started with the letter P. In intimate moments, while delivering the type of slow strokes that only a man in love sensuously sinks deeply inside of his woman, he would whisper in her ear how much he loved her “sweet pussy.” That type of dirty talk always excited her.
     “Hey Grizzly Bear,” she answered as she walked barefoot over to where he lay on the couch and climbed on top of her husband.
     At first she straddled him before she laid out flat on top of his body as if he was a comfortable mattress and used his chest as a pillow. Charles stretched his arm across to the mahogany coffee table to ash his cigar in the glass ashtray that sat on top of the expensive wood. He abandoned the Cohiba to smolder on its own like a stick of incense. Once both of his hands were free, he wrapped his arms around his wife and held her tightly. He loved to feel her soft, supple body pressed against him. Priscilla’s natural, fluffy, frizzy curls felt like cotton and tickled his chin. Charles inhaled deeply, relishing the way her hair smelled, sweetly scented by the oils she used to maintain its healthy sheen. He used his giant-sized hand to part her wild mane so that he could kiss her softly on the forehead.
     “You’re late,” he told her. “I thought today was supposed to be the day when you are done with all of your lectures by midday?” Charles asked as Priscilla frowned because of the smell of the cigar still heavy on his breath.
     “Yeah, today was my early day. I’m sorry I got in so late,” she apologized sincerely.
     “With all of this rain, I was worried about you. I know how much you hate to drive in it. I couldn’t stop thinking that you might have had some terrible car accident. I was afraid that you had skid off the road somewhere.”
     “Aww, you were worried about me? You’re such a good husband.”
    “Of course I was worried about you. What would I do without you, the love of my life and the most amazing woman I’ve ever known?” he asked playfully.
    “You’re sweet to say that but, I know exactly what you’d do if I was tragically torn from your life,” she chuckled.
    “What exactly do you think I would do if I lost you?” he asked before pressing his lips to hers.    “How could I possibly manage without you?”
     “You’d just find a younger, prettier, curvier version of me,” she answered.
     “And where in the world would I find another woman with ALL of those wonderful attributes?”
     “Oh please. Don’t pretend that you don’t see girls like that walking all over the campus all day… every day. It’s literally a buffet of sexy coeds. I’m sure you’ll be able to charm any one of them out of their panties,” Priscilla told him sarcastically.
     Charles would have kept the light humor going if he had been completely sure whether or not his wife was really joking. In the past, on more than one occasion, he had been caught being disrespectfully and blatantly unfaithful. Steamy flings and inappropriate entanglements with a few of his female students at the college where they both worked had violated the sanctity of their marriage. Priscilla claimed to have forgiven him and Charles believed that, at least in her heart, she had really tried to let go of all the pain and embarrassment he had caused her but, he also know that her soul still ached because of the things he had done.
    “I cooked dinner,” he told her, quickly changing the subject before their pleasant, flirtatious conversation had a chance to take an ugly turn.
     “Really? I can’t smell anything with all of the nasty cigar smoke in the house,” she frowned while crinkling her nose.
     “I made your favorite,” he added, then watched her eyes light up as her frown flipped and turned into a wide smile.
     “Steak?” she asked anxiously and excited as her mouth began to water.
    “There’s a juicy cut of London broil, stewed with fresh veggies, smothered in delicious, savory gravy, just the way you like it,” he answered, continuing to tease her taste buds with his vivid description of the meal he had painstakingly prepared for her.
     “Mmmm, I’m starving. Let’s eat,” she said.

With full stomachs from a delicious dinner and lightheaded from the half bottle of wine they had just finished together, Charles and Priscilla soaked in the bathtub together by candlelight. The warm water and the suds from the bubble bath soothed their skin as Charles washed Priscilla’s back with the soft sponge. When he was finished, she leaned back and rest against his chest. The aroma from the lavender candles was relaxing and helped to put them both in an even more mellow mode than the wine had.
“There’s something I meant to ask you earlier,” Charles leaned forward and whispered in Priscilla’s ear.
“And what’s that?” she asked.
“You never explained why you were so late getting home today, or where you were for all that time,” he said.
“Are you worried…think I was somewhere I shouldn’t have been…doing something I shouldn’t have been doing?” she asked as she felt his fingers firmly on her nipples after he reached around to fondle her breasts.
“That’s not what I’m saying at all. I just thought that it was strange that you didn’t tell me what happened or where you were exactly after I told you how worried I was,” he answered before he leaned forward to gently bite her earlobe.
“Sure sounds like you’re suspicious. What’s the matter? You don’t trust me?” she asked, gently moving his hand away from her breasts so that she could bring his fingers to her lips. First, she sucked on his thumb suggestively, and then his pointer finger before finally taking both his pointer and middle finger in her mouth at the same time. Slowly, she continued to suck on them until she felt him getting hard behind her.
“Of course I trust you,” he answered.
“Really?” she mumbled with her mouth full.
“Ouch!” Charles complained as Priscilla bit down on his fingers, hard enough for it to hurt but not viciously enough to break the skin. “Why’d you do that?” he asked.
Priscilla stood up in the bathtub and turned around to face him in all of her magnificent, naked glory. She put her hands on her hips and let him watch the water drip down her smooth skin, like many tiny streams. She stood in front of him like a goddess to be revered and she didn’t need to see through the foamy, bubblebath suds, or below the bathwater to know how aroused he was. She had been married to him long enough to feel from a distance how filled with lust he was and knew how to read the burning desire written all over his face. She watched his eyes explore every inch of her body and she read every dirty thought in his head.
Like a pagan, Charles worshiped the magnificent woman in front of him as if she was the sun. He resisted the urge to reach out, grab her and pull her close so that he could taste the sweetness between her thighs. Only the stern expression on her face kept him at bay but he was so excited that he was almost tempted to beg. When Priscilla saw him lean forward to kiss her down low, she firmly planted her palm on his forehand to stop him.
“I was late today because I gave one of my students a ride home and before you ask, yes, he is very handsome. And no, I didn’t fuck him because I know that’s the next question that’s going to pop into your head. I stayed at his place until the rain eased up, chatting with him and his girlfriend. It was innocent,” she explained.
“So, if his girlfriend wasn’t there?” Charles asked, trying not to seem nervous or concerned but the question itself betrayed him.
Priscilla smiled wickedly, held her husband’s chin firmly and forced him to look up at her. “My love, the day that I pay you back for the things you’ve done, when I do finally decide to give you a healthy taste of your own medicine, I’m not going to sneak around behind your back. Trust me, you’re going to KNOW when we’re even,” she told him before she kissed her passionately.
Their tongues touched in a familiar dance as Priscilla aggressively grabbed the back of her husband’s head so he couldn’t move back or pull away from her.
Charles was completely breathless when she finally let him go. His heart pounded with the heavy thud of a marching band base drum as Pricilla stepped out of the bathtub and walked over to the rack where the clean towels were neatly hung. Lightheaded because of all the blood that had rushed from his head down to his lower region, he watched her wrap the pristine white towel around her dripping wet body. It was barely big enough to cover her nakedness and although he had just seen all of her, the tease of what the towel left unseen drove him wild. She looked back at him over her shoulder before she walked out of the master bathroom and he immediately picked up on the subtle, seductive invitation to follow her.

Charles slowly entered the bedroom and quietly walked up behind Priscilla where she stood at the foot of the bed, still barely covered by her towel. She was staring at a gift wrapped package that sat in the middle of their king-sized bed.
“What’s this?” she asked when she felt him press the rock hard stiffness that was only covered by the towel wrapped around his waist, right up against her soft behind.
“Just something I picked up in the city before I came home. I thought you might like it,” he answered before you planted a few soft kisses on the side of her neck, close to her collarbone.
“What’s the special occasion?” she asked as she went to look at her present, excited but also very suspicious.
Charles’ eyes were drawn to the plump, clean-shaven lips between her legs that were exposed when the fluffy white towel rolled up as she climbed onto the bed. From behind, they were just as pretty and enticing as they were from the front.
“No special occasion. I just felt like doing something nice to surprise you,” he answered as Priscilla opened the small, flat box which was about the size of a thin novel.
“This is beautiful…and very expensive,” she gasped as she took out the beige, cashmere and silk Chanel scarf out of the box and held it against her cheek to feel just how soft it was. “Okay, what bad news are you about to spring on me? What’ve you done?” she asked as she looked back over her shoulder at him, suddenly becoming very serious.
“I didn’t do anything wrong. I swear,” Charles said, quickly raising both his hands as if the police had guns pointed at him. “Well, not really,” continued.
“Not really huh? What’d you do that is SO bad that you felt that you had to buy me an expensive scarf?” she pressed him for answers.
“Well, I felt a little guilty about being so rough the other night. I saw the bruises on your wrists from where I tied your hands. I’m still not exactly sure what got into me. I shouldn’t have been that rough,” he explained and almost sounded ashamed.
Priscilla had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud as Charles lowered his eyes and looked away from her as if he was a child who was expecting a hard spanking. She was tempted to order him to get a belt so she could do just that but, she wasn’t sure if either one of them would enjoy it. That was one of the few things sexually that they had never tried. She stared at the front of this towel and noticed that the huge bulge that she had felt before when he had walked up behind her was still there which made her grin with mischief on her mind.
“Drop that towel and get over here,” she told him.
Charles did exactly as she commanded without hesitation. He let the towel that had been wrapped around his waist fall to the bedroom floor as he watched his wife discard hers. As he climbed up on the mattress behind her, she handed him the expensive Chanel scarf before she kneeled down and bent over to lay her face down on the plush pillow in front of her. Charles stared at the amazing roundness of her plus-size backside and the narrowness of her slim waist as she put both her hands together behind her back.
“Tie my hands with it,” she told him and once again, without a moment’s hesitation, he obliged her.

Copyright © 2015 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.

I hope you enjoyed this sample from Chapter 7 of “The Higher Learning Curve” which is scheduled to be released November 27, 2015. (I promise you that what happens NEXT in this scene is scorching and absolutely XXX.)

I’ve made autographed paperbacks available for pre-order for those who want to make sure that their autographed copies are reserved. Here is the secure Paypal link to pre-order your copy in advance:
(IMPORTANT: There is a different link for international orders outside of the United States. Email for International Orders.)

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

Pre-Order "The Higher Learning Curve" by Keith Kareem Williams

I’m a man of my word so, as promised, I’ve set up the Paypal purchase link for those who’ve asked about pre-ordering their autographed copies of “The Higher Learning Curve.” I want to thank all of my loyal readers for being my biggest cheerleaders and for supporting everything I do. You guys may be fans of my work but we’ve become a family and I’m grateful for each and every one of you. I appreciate the impatience and the pressure that you put on me to get these books finished. It keeps me motivated which is an important thing for a natural-born procrastinator. I’ve written love scenes in most of my other novels but this is the first fully erotic novel that I will be releasing. It’s also the first book of my “Reem After Dark Presents” series of erotic novels, so there’s also THOSE future releases to look forward to. If all things go as planned, you will be seeing the next storyline of the series sometime in February… close to Valentine’s Day of course because, what better time is there to release a steamy, sexy, sensual book?

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Her Rhythm, My Blues

Her Rhythm, My Blues

Your rhythm is the perfect match for my blues because everything we have going on feels like a soulful slow song. For as long as I can remember, melancholy seems to be my natural state of mind most times but you’re the only one who can change that with a smile. You don’t press me or stress me to be different from what I am. You accept it without question but only because you understand why I am the way I am. There’s nothing about you that doesn’t seem perfect to me because all I see is that you’re exactly the way you’re supposed to be. And when I say that you’re perfect, I’m not trying to apply pressure for you to try to be without flaws. I just mean that the only imperfections I’m interested in are all yours.

Sometimes I’m quiet but it’s never a problem between us because we don’t need to hear each other’s voices to speak. A whole day can go by where we only communicate with body language. You read me like the words, sentences, paragraphs and chapters from one of my books. Even there, you see me on those pages clearer than anyone else can. You know how to let me know exactly what you need, exactly when you need it. Even when we’re apart, you’re still right here. I can feel it. We both know how to keep our business to ourselves and although the world always wants more and more pieces of me, there will always be things that I will only share with you.

The past is the past and neither one of us is looking back at anywhere we’ve been or at anyone that we’ve been with. They’re just going to have to hate because we let it all go and simply admit that they were all beautiful mistakes. Your heart has been hurt so much but you trust me to stop the bleeding. I swear to hold you down because, besides myself, you gave me something real to believe in. Your rhythm is the only one I want to vibe to as I lose all of my blues deep inside you.

Creative Upper Class Writer's Group - Coming Soon

Creative Upper Class
Writer’s Group
(New York)

I’ve often said that “Writing is a solitary activity,” and that authors spend many hours alone penning our thoughts or contemplating what we should write about. Sometimes we have more intimate relationships with our pens, notebooks, journals and keyboards than we do with our spouses and lovers. Our minds are often somewhere far off, far removed from where it’s supposed to be according to the people closest to us. That’s just our nature. We can’t help it. We’re always searching for deeper truths on different levels in the seemingly mundane things that regular people ignore, or take for granted. It can be frustrating trying to be understood by folks who aren’t writers that want our undivided attention. For years, I’ve yearned for that feeling I had when I used to take Fiction workshops in college. It gave me the opportunity to be around other people who were, for the most part, as passionate as I am about the written word. I admit that I’m starting this writer’s group partly for selfish reasons. I want to be in an environment where my peers will keep me sharp, motivated and inspired. However, I also want to nurture novice novelists so that they can see their dreams come to fruition. I wish that I had that kind of support system in place when I was writing chapter after chapter in the wee hours of the morning when most of the world was asleep. That’s why I’m seeking a healthy mix of veterans and aspiring authors to participate in the group.

I want every member to be pushed in order to reach their highest potential. That can only happen if we’re 100% honest with our critiques when we share our works-in-progress. This will not be a place for the thin-skinned who struggle with accepting fair and honest criticism. There should be a standard of excellence that we demand of each other. Also, we should be sharing experiences, information and resources so that we all shine. In the beginning, I’m keeping the group local here in New York but the plan is to expand, online and eventually to other states as well. Once things are running smoothly here, I’ll make sure to spread to roots of this to as many places as I can.

Since I’ve made the announcement about what I’m trying to accomplish, I’ve received inquiries from new authors and some old pros too which is great. You can trust and believe that I am going to build something special. For a long time, it has been a dream of mine to do this and I’m determined to make it happen, sooner rather than later. Over the holiday season I’m going to spend a lot of time planning and getting things organized. Stay tuned.

Much love to everyone that has reached out to me and shown interest in being a part of this.   

Thursday, October 22, 2015

Sneak Peek of Chapter 3 from "The Higher Learning Curve"

Chapter 3

Marlon gazed out of Vickie’s apartment window into the darkness high above the surrounding buildings. The full moon had caught his eye as it glowed like a bright pearl against the backdrop of a cloudless night sky. He had always preferred it’s pale glow to the blinding glare of the sun and was fascinated by the moon’s almost magical properties; the way it influenced the levels of the ocean’s tides and how it altered people’s moods. The fact that it was exponentially closer to the earth than the star whose light it reflected made the moon feel even more special to him, like a friend that only lived a few doors down.
“What are you over there staring at?” Vickie asked from the other side of the room. She was in bed, dressed in just her underwear, surrounded by textbooks, notepads, pens, highlight markers and different-colored sticky notes stuck to pages, flapping like feathers from the breeze generated by the small, desktop fan on the nightstand next to her. Her panties and bra weren’t a matching set but she was comfortable enough around him that she really didn’t care. Her hair hung loosely around her shoulders, messy and wild, a sharp contrast to the conservatively neat styles she usually wore when she ventured outside of her cozy, one-bedroom apartment. The sides of her that she showed the rest of the world and what she allowed him to see were two completely different things.
“I’m just looking up at the moon. It’s full tonight,” he answered, turning away from the window to give her his full attention. “What are you over there studying?” he asked.
“I’m working on a paper for my anthropology class,” she answered as she dragged a yellow highlighter across a passage in the textbook in her lap.
“Anthropology. Now, there’s a subject that’ll come in handy in life,” he said playfully.
“Says the electrical engineer who passionately expressed the virtues of being well-rounded and learned when he tried to explain why he was taking world arts to me earlier today,” she answered, raising her glasses off of her nose and resting them on top of her head.
“You’re so cute when you’re being a smartass,” her.
“Oh really? So cute that I’m doing my anthropology paper instead of getting that second round that you promised me?” she asked sarcastically.
“Don’t pout. You know that I’m a man of my word,” he said as he walked away from the window and got back into bed with her, shoving some of her papers aside.
“Ugh, you’re making a mess,” she complained halfheartedly because the truth was, she could think of a long list of things she would rather be doing at the moment and none of those things had anything to do with her anthropology paper or any form of schoolwork.
“What’s the theme of this paper that you’re working so hard on?” he asked while running his finger gently across her shoulder.
“I’m writing a paper on how women are depicted differently from men in almost everything you read in literature. I’m calling it Subtle Sexism,” she answered, slightly excited by his touch.
“That seems like an odd subject for an anthropology project. I thought anthropology was about digging up old bones and cracked clay pots,” he joked.
“That’s part of it but it’s a lot more than that. Anthropology is the study of humankind. In more technical terms, it’s the comparative study of human societies and cultures and their development,” she answered.
“You know I love it when you talk nerdy to me right?” he told her, then gently started planting kisses on her shoulder blade.
“Is that so?” she asked as thoughts of how language was used in a recent newspaper article to describe a female nominee for the next U.S. presidency in a manner that made her seem weaker than her male counterparts floated out of her head, replaced by carnal curiosity about what Marlon planned to do next.
“Yes, that’s a fact. Smart women are way sexier than dumb ones,” he answered while playing with her belly button with his index finger.
“I have a lot of work to do,” Vickie sighed, protesting weakly.
Marlon slid his fingers in a straight line below her belly button across her soft skin gradually until he slipped his hand past the waistband of her underwear. She was wet and sticky between her most feminine lips. The highlight marker fell from Vickie’s fingers as she began to moan and pull her own hair. Marlon smiled, because of how she responded to what he was doing to her with just his fingers. To him, it was like playing a musical instrument. The sounds she made changed depending on how and where he touched her. There was no guessing involved on his part anymore because he knew what she liked and had learned what she loved.
As much as Vickie enjoyed his touch, she refused to become so completely lost in pleasure that she forgot that she had power over him as well. The Victoria that she carefully and deliberately constructed each morning to present to the world served as the cage that kept the wilder side of Vickie contained, metaphorically restrained. She had always been afraid to let that side of herself loose. The countless lectures from her mother about always being a proper lady and the good girl at all times had warped her perception of sexuality to such a degree that she was ashamed of some of the things she desired to do, and to have done to her. It was only since she moved into her own apartment and met Marlon that she had been able to do so much of what she had been taught not to do.
When Marlon’s fingers were no longer enough to satisfy her, she kicked and shoved all of her schoolwork out of the bed and onto the floor. Anthropology, sexism in social media and everything else that pertained to school was swept from her mind. Marlon might have started out as the aggressor but Vickie quickly became more lustful than the first woman who bit into the biblical forbidden fruit in the first garden. Even Marlon was surprised by how aggressive she suddenly became.
In the blink of an eye, Marlon found himself flat on his back on Vickie’s mattress. She nearly ripped his T-shirt as she pulled it up over his head and once it was off, she flung it across the room. He winced in pain when she roughly shoved her hand down in front of his boxer briefs and groped him. Women sometimes underestimate how sensitive a man’s male parts are. He took off his underwear himself and to his relief, she was much more gentle with her mouth than she had been with her hands.
With her full, pouty lips, Vickie kissed him on his stomach first and then much lower. The wetness of her mouth was one of his favorite parts of their ritualistic foreplay when they warmed each other up for what came next. He skillfully unhooked her bra with one hand and freed her breasts so that he could fondle them. The stiffness of her nipples excited him and Marlon marveled at how God had shaped and molded women into such beautiful forms. Curvy, voluptuous, pleasantly plump, slim-thick, chunky, short or tall, he admired them all but at the moment, Vickie was his Venus and he knew exactly what to do with her.
Vicki tasted that she had brought Marlon to the brink of climax right before he grabbed her head and stopped her. Mischievously she smiled, satisfied that she had almost finished him off with just her mouth. She recognized in his face how hard he fought to stay in control, of his own body and the entire situation in general. Vicki empathized with his struggle and decided to relinquish the reins, just for little while. Her lover switched places with her and she ended up on her back with her legs on Marlon’s shoulders. The course stubble where he had trimmed his beard tickled the soft and sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
Marlon boldly pressed his face between her legs and with a firm grip on her supple limbs, he forced her legs apart so that he could taste how sweet she really was. Like a small waterfall, she flowed and made his face glisten, from the tip of his nose to the bottom of his chin. Vickie loved the way he kissed her second pair of lips. Her toes curled as both of her legs began to tremble. The way she smelled and the flavor of her sweetness on his tongue was one of the things Marlon loved because it intoxicated him. He brought her to the edge of climax but, before he pushed her off into the pleasurable chasm that was an orgasm, he took his tongue away.
The way Marlon abruptly stopped making love to her with his mouth nearly drove Vickie insane. She was tempted to reach down and choke him because of how he had cruelly teased her. He deserved at least a slap. Before she had a chance to voice her displeasure, he climbed on top of her. Then she gasped from the sensation of his penetration and fell recklessly in lust from the feeling of that first stroke. Each one after that one intensified and made her body shiver as he delivered even more than she had expected, forcing her to wonder what might have inspired him so. That question danced in her head for split-second but, as waves of pleasure washed over her, she simply didn’t care, at least not in that moment. Women tended to be mentally gifted in that way. She filed away her suspicions in the back of her mind for later discussion so that she could focus on what she was getting from him and simply enjoyed what was happening.
Marlon’s lips curled into a wicked grin when Vicki pushed him off of her so that she could roll over and get on all fours on the mattress. She looked back at him over her shoulder as he licked his lips and prepared to take her from behind. He used his  left-hand to hold her slender waist and his right hand to squeeze the meaty cheek of her butt that was larger than one would imagine on a woman with her petite frame. Aside from her breasts, she had the upper body of the skinny woman but her lower half was round and plump. Marlon often wondered how she successfully hid all of that, such an incredibly voluptuous body, underneath her clothes.
He tried to last for as long as he could but the way she threw it back on him, he just couldn’t hold on. In complete ecstasy and trapped by the walls of her wet warmth, he almost didn’t pull out in time. As he finally exploded, he felt as if he had spilled a part of his soul all over her back, butt cheeks and bedsheets. It wasn’t difficult for him to understand and relate to why orgasms were once called “the little death” by that old, famous playwright, Shakespeare. Marlon was completely convinced that a portion of his life force was drained every time he came. He wasn’t sure if it was the same for women. Vickie always appeared to be the exact opposite, energized, as if she had been given life, and was ready to go again.

Vickie was impressed with herself when she saw the spent expression on Marlon’s face. She could have allowed him to control how fast, or how slowly he pushed inside her so that he could have lasted longer but, towards the very end, she took back the power she had allowed him to borrow when they first started by controlling the rhythm of their sex. The way she had thrust herself back into him stimulated the most sensitive part of his manhood as his tip hit the deepest parts of her. After he erupted and collapsed on the bed, she cuddled up beside him. Now that they were both satisfied, her mind returned to the thoughts she had temporarily suppressed. Marlon put his arm around her and Vickie planted a few soft kisses on his hairless bare chest.

Copyright © 2015 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.


Friday, October 16, 2015

Chapter 50 from "Blood & Vengeance," - The Last Long Kiss

Good evening folks. Here's a SEXY sample chapter from "Blood & Vengeance," an explosive thriller co-authored by Keith Gaston and myself. Enjoy. 


 On an  old wooden table inside Room #205 of the Highway Inn, a lonely cigarette burned slowly as it balanced in the groove of the cheap, black, plastic ashtray. Right next to it sat the cell phone that Will hadn’t stopped staring at since he sat down. His eyes were obsessively fixed on it as he waited impatiently for it to ring. It was all he could do to keep his focus off of the excruciating pain pulsating from the wound in his side. In hindsight, he wished that he had taken a few syringes of Aberdeen’s pain-relieving cocktail along with the arsenal he had made off with.
On the opposite side of the room, Sassy lay quietly on the bed next to the black duffel bag of guns that Will had brought along with him from the butcher shop. She hadn’t said a word but she was deeply disturbed by his grim and morbid mood. Besides all of the blood that was already on his hands, she imagined how much the weight of killing Allen Aberdeen must have been crushing him. She understood all of the reasons why Will had to pull the trigger but she also realized how much it must have hurt him to have had to commit such a callous act. Allen might have been in league with the men that Will had sworn to kill but, he had also saved Will’s life and been a father figure to him once upon a time. No matter how cold and emotionless Will pretended to be, she knew that he was no natural born killer, no matter how many men he had murdered or how much blood he had spilled. The horrible thing that had happened to his family is what set him on the path he was on. As he watched his phone, she watched him an to her eyes, he looked like a man waiting for Death to call. He didn’t appear to be nervous, or even afraid but what she sensed in him was acceptance of whatever his fate was going to be. His lust for life seemed to be gone and that frightened her.
“Are you going to sit there and stare at your phone all night? You don’t think you’ll hear it if it rings?” Sassy asked.
“You should be getting some rest,” he answered without turning his head.
“I tried. I can’t sleep. I’m afraid of the bad dreams I keep having every time I close my eyes.”
“I’m sorry that you’re caught up in all of this because of me. Otherwise, you’d be laying in your own bed, in peace,” he apologized sadly and sincerely.
“Unfortunately, since I was a little girl, my bed has hardly ever been peaceful,” she answered.
“Those men…they kidnapped you to get to me. The things they did to you…that’s my fault.”
“You couldn’t have known that they would have tried to use me as bait. You’re not to blame for what happened or for anything they did to me.”
“But it did happen.”
“And…are the things that happened to me the reason why you hardly look at me anymore?” Sassy asked.
“What? What do you mean?” he asked uncomfortably.
“Since the day you rescued me, you’ve hardly looked at me.”
“Of course I have.”
“Not the way you used to. Not the way a man looks at a woman.”
“Well, this gash in my side has kinda kept my mind off of that sorta thing.”
“You sure that’s the reason...or is it something else?”
“I just thought that you wouldn’t want to. I mean, after all that you just went through,” he tried to explain.
Sassy didn’t answer with words this time. Instead, she slipped her arms out of her T-shirt, then pulled it up above her breasts and then over her head. She tossed it on the dresser and then got on her knees to unbuckle her jeans. Will watched as she took them off. She fought to get the tight denim down past her curvy hips while staring at him and seductively biting her bottom lip. The sight of her wearing nothing but her panties and bra took his mind off of the pain from his wound. She recognized the lust in his eyes and realized that she finally had his full attention. What she did next would guarantee that she kept it.
Sassy snuggled up with the black duffel bag that lay on the bed beside her as if it was a comfortable body pillow and not loaded with a dangerous arsenal of weapons. Slowly, with her eyes fixed on Will, she unzipped the bag the same way she would unzip a man’s pants. She winked at him before she slipped her hand inside the bag. She felt around inside until she got a grip on something that she liked and then pulled an assault rifle out of the bag.
“Don’t play with that. It’s dangerous,” he warned her as she stood the long gun straight up between her crossed legs.
“This life is dangerous. No one knows that more than me and you,” she answered before she puckered her lips and kissed the muzzle.
“I’m serious. Stop playing. You could shoot yourself by mistake,” he told her, unable to turn away because what she was suggestively doing with the gun was turning him on. She made the black shaft slick with spit as she ran her tongue down the entire length of it.
“Come over here and take it from me then,” she said.
Almost immediately after the words sultry invitation had left her lips, Will was on the bed with her. He snatched the rifle from Sassy and tossed it on the tawdry motel room carpet. She collared him up and kissed him with savage passion while he unhooked her bra. Once the straps fell off of her shoulders and her breasts were exposed, she ripped his T-shirt off so that she could press her stiff nipples up against his bare chest. She breathed heavily, like a person who had been drowning that had finally fought their way to the surface for air. Once they parted lips, she began to unfasten his belt. Before Sassy could get his jeans off, Will pushed her down on the bed with one hand while he shoved the duffel bag onto the floor with the other. It landed on the carpet with a clank and a dull thud. A second later, Sassy’s panties were off and her thighs were spread apart with his face buried between them.
The intensity of the kiss they had shared just moments before could not compare to the way he used his mouth to please her. It took her completely by surprise. She moaned wildly in ecstasy as his tongue and lips kissed her in ways he never had before. As she dug her nails into the mattress, she nearly ripped the cheap bed sheets as he continued to eat like man that had been starving for weeks. Will made love to her with his mouth as if she was the last woman he would ever taste and as he did, Sassy couldn’t help but wonder if he had ever done the same thing to any other women. It was an awkward moment to feel jealous but she certainly hoped that she hadn’t as she reached her orgasm, explosively. He drank every drop of her sweet juices. By the time she had her third orgasm, she opened her eyes to look down at him in awe because she hadn’t taught him anything that he was doing to her and she couldn’t believe how he was making her body feel.
When Will finally stopped and came up for air, there was a long, intense moment when they simply stared at each other. There are times when a melancholy smile and a sad tear in an eye can express more sentiment than the longest love letter. Once her legs stopped shaking, Sassy sat up and tenderly wiped the tears from his eyes with her finger. For the first time, she saw in his face that he didn’t want to die. She took his hand and pulled him close so that she could hug him tightly. She felt his body relax while wrapped in her loving embrace. She kissed his neck, then his chest and then planted many kisses on his stomach as she removed his pants and boxers. He held the top of her head and gasped as she teased the tip of his penis with her tongue. Finally, she opened wide and took it into her mouth. Will looked down at her and the sight of her full lips wrapped around him nearly drove him mad. The vibration from the way she moaned was incredible and nearly gave him shivers. Her tongue and lips worked together as her mouth watered. She took him deeper and deeper until he could feel that he was at the back of her mouth. Carefully, she allowed him down her throat. She began to stroke his shaft with her hands as well and just when she knew that he couldn’t take anymore she stopped. She kissed the tip and watched it throb. Then, she pulled him down, close to her by the shoulders so they could kiss again.
“You used to say that I was your good luck charm,” she whispered. “You said that nothing could hurt you…that nothing could kill you…that you couldn’t die, as long as you shared my bed,” she reminded him and then affectionately kissed him on the forehead. “Look me in the eye and tell me if you still believe that.”
He hesitated at first but eventually, with all of the confidence in the world her looked into her face and said, “I do still believe that.”
“Then fuck me and let me be your good luck…even if this is the last time. By tomorrow, we could be dead along with the rest of the city so if this is my last night, I want to feel you inside me,” she told him.
Will kissed Sassy again and then lay her down gently on the mattress again. She slowly parted her thighs to invite him inside and he eagerly accepted. He kissed the soles of her feet, one at a time before he put her legs up on his shoulders. He started off making love to her romantically but he had been one of her lovers long enough to know what it was that her body truly craved. She loved and longed for rough, powerful strokes delivered with hot-blooded intensity. The forceful pounding that he gave her was what she desired. That was how she had trained him to please her. The way her body creamed his manhood until it glistened proved that that was how she wanted him to handle her. There had been a time, when he first became one of her clients, that she had to tell him how to make her moan. She had always enjoyed being the teacher but, as she felt her student touch the deepest parts inside her, just the way she liked it, she recognized that he had most definitely graduated from her class.
Will felt his own orgasm coming but he wasn’t ready to erupt just yet. In one, smooth, subtle move he turned her hip to let her know that he wanted to take her from behind. Sassy obliged him, turned over quickly and got on all fours so he could. Once she felt him stiff and throbbing inside her, she arched her back and rocked backwards to meet his thrusts. He squeezed her cheeks and stared down to witness every stroke. Despite her otherwise slim, somewhat petite build, her butt was roundly plump and he loved the way it bounced. When he couldn’t hold on any longer, he reached forward and grabbed her by the hair. Then she felt him sexually shiver and she screamed his name as he came. Afterwards, they both collapsed together on the bed, exhausted and spent.
“You’re bleeding!” she told him as she looked at the bandage on his side as he lay down on his back.
“I didn’t even notice,” he said and grimaced in pain.
The crimson spot on his bandage had started to spread steadily like a red flower blooming against a white field and she wondered if he had re-opened the gash in his side. The sex had been so ferocious that he hadn’t realized that he had re-injured himself.
“I’m going to have to go out and get something to clean that up, and try to find something to help you with the pain,” she said as she jumped out of bed and hurried to get dressed.
“Bandages, peroxide and some vodka would be nice,” he joked. “But, be careful and hurry back. I’m almost ready for round two with you.”
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You don’t worry about round two. Just don’t die on me,” she said.
“I won’t. You’re my good luck charm. Remember?” he reminded her in a faint whisper right before he passed out.

Once she got her clothes on, Sassy snatched the keys to the SUV off of the nightstand. All of her life, she had always believed that God hated her or, at the very least, forsaken her. Never once had she ever prayed but this time she did; not for herself but for Will to survive a bit longer. She pressed her lips against his before she hastily left the motel room to procure the things she needed to get for him.

Copyright © 2014 Keith Gaston & Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.

Forgetful Me

Forgetful Me

My memory has always been bad, but only because of all the important things that I try my best to hold onto in such a finite space. When I’m old and gray I’ll probably forget my own name but I’ll always remember your eyes and my own reflection in them. I know that I’m confusing and almost impossible to read so I accept that I’ll often be misunderstood. I won’t forget that you were the only one that tried to make sense of my madness, or that you were happy to coexist in the midst of my eccentric and “crazy” life.

Even if you give me a written grocery list, I’m sure to forget to pick up one of the important items you made sure to remind me to get…but, I won’t forget to cook your favorite meal, just the way like it after you’ve had a bad day. It might seem as if I don’t listen but know that I always hear you. I might forget to mention how nice your hair looks after you get back from the salon with a new style but I won’t forget your favorite shampoo, or how to massage your scalp whenever you ask me to wash it. I’ll remember how you looked on our first date but I love you so much that I'll never even notice when you gain a little weight. To me, you’ll always look just like you did on that day. I’ll remember to say "sorry" when I’m wrong and I’ll forget to be mad when you are. I’ll be in such a rush to start my day that I’ll forget to make the bed but I won’t forget how to mess it up again when I get back home to you at night. I’ll remember every story from your past that you share with me but I’ll forget to use any of it against you. I might accidentally make you cry from time to time but I will never forget how to make you smile again. I might neglect you sometimes when I get caught up in my notebooks and these stories but, know that thoughts of you are what move my pen. If you look closely at my chapters, you’ll see a reflection of yourself in every single one of them. I won’t be on time all the time but even when I’m late, I’ll never forget how your lips taste, the way you smell, or the way you feel.

I’ll sometimes forget to tell you that you’re gorgeous every day but I’ll never forget to love you hard, no matter what I might forget to say.

Copyright © 2015 Keith Kareem Williams
All rights reserved.

Sample from Chapter 6 of "Water Flows Under Doors" by Keith Kareem Williams

I wrote and self-published my 1st novel, "Water Flows Under Doors," way back in 2009 and I've come a long way since but, I'm still very proud of this story and how my readers still love it. Here's one of my favorite moments from the book. 

APARTMENT H6.  “Who is it?”  Tracy asked out of habit and routine.  Remy was somewhere out of town and her mother had left for work hours ago so she knew who was on the other side of the door.  She smiled and fixed herself one final time before she let him in.
Tyler,” he answered.  He felt like a kid who waited for his first kiss from his sweetheart after school.  His stomach twisted uncontrollably like some gnarled, mishap tree from a twisted forest.  He had no idea what to expect once the door opened.
“I almost thought you wasn’t comin’,” she told him as she unlocked her apartment door.
“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he said and tried to look everywhere else but at the feminine figure that held the door open for him.  At first the door had hid half of her from him but now he could see how little her tight jeans shorts covered.  As he stepped inside, from the corner of his eye he followed her body, from her bare feet, up her tan, creamy thighs to where the short-shorts stopped.  Her hair was out and brushed against her shoulders just enough to tickle.  He believed that she must have heard his heart as it drummed heavily, methodically, rapidly in his chest.
“I was about to go to sleep,” she said and gently closed the door.  Now, Tyler was confused and wondered if she was wearing what she was wearing because she was expecting his company or because she was really on her way to bed.  Her brown nipples showed through the short, white T-shirt that barely covered them and completely exposed her tummy.  He stared at her and whether it was her intention or not, Tracy had succeeded in pushing Deborah just a little farther back in his mind.
Tracy sat him down on the couch and greeted him with a wet, tender kiss on the lips.  If Tyler had any doubts or reservations as to whether or not she liked him, those doubts were rapidly being erased.
“So what happened with your father?” she asked as she sat close to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder.  The long hours since that meeting with his father had given him time to cool off so the question annoyed him far less than it had earlier.  Besides, regardless of his mood, the soothing tone in her voice and her fingers massaging the back of his neck would have made him tell her anything
“I guess he came around to give me fatherly advice or maybe make up for lost time.”
“So what’s wrong with that?” she asked and looked into his face with a mischievous smile.
“Too late for all that.  Me and Shamar been livin’ without him for so long I don’t think we can ever be close to him.”
“Well, I ain’t gonna act like I could understand that,” she replied softly.  Her voice seemed to be tainted by an old sadness she had never quite been cured of.
“What’s hard to understand?” Tyler asked.  He could actually feel the sea of subdued sadness that poured from her and filled the room.
“Me and my father was real close.  I still miss him so much,” she told Tyler.  Her lips trembled and her eyes began to water.  She quickly covered her face with her shaky hands.
“I’m sorry,” he said and pulled her hands away from her face.  He wiped away the tears that had fallen down her cheeks and a warm kiss stopped any more from falling.  After their lips separated she looked at him, surprised by the method he chose to calm her down.  She hugged him and rubbed the side of her face against his chest and felt his heartbeat.  Tyler closed his eyes and leaned his head back as she moved slowly, seductively, like a kitten in his lap.
“I think about Daddy every day.  I know that Ma does too even though she try not to let me see it but I know.  She can’t hide it from me.  I can see it in her face and in her eyes every time she walks through the door and knows that he isn’t gonna be there.  I wish he could have held little Stacy in his arms even though, he probably would have wanted to kill me when I got pregnant.”
“Why?  I remember your father as the most easy-going man I’d ever met.  I ain’t never seen him upset.”
“Be for real.  Me getting’ pregnant at my age would have ranked right up there with my brother Sean getting’ locked up.”
“I almost forgot you even had a big brother.”
“That’s how long Sean been locked up.  I hardly know him no more except for the letters he sends sometimes.  He been there so long he don’t even send those too much no more.”
“You gettin’ pregnant ain’t as bad as your brother doin’ a stretch bid in prison.”
“That’s what you think.  And, to make things worse, look who I got pregnant for.  My father would never have let me and Remy be together.”
“To tell you the truth, I don’t like Remy either.  Never did.  Somethin’ about him I don’t like.  I mean, I know he’s your baby’s father and I don’t know him that good but I know I ain’t feelin’ him.”
“My father liked him though.  Matter of fact, Ma said that after my brother got locked up it was like Daddy adopted Remy.  Maybe because Sean and Remy was real close at one time I guess Daddy wanted Remy close to him to remind him of Sean.”
“If your father liked Remy so much, what was the problem with him being your man?”  Tyler asked.
“Daddy knew Remy liked me.  He even caught us kissing once.  I thought he would have killed us when I looked in his eyes but he didn’t say much.  He calmly asked Remy to leave and didn’t speak to me for at least a month.  I can honestly say that it was the worst month of my life except for the first month after he died.  I cried whenever he walked past me without saying anything until, eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore.  When he finally did speak to me he said something about not wanting me to end up with ‘men like us,’ was his statement.”
“The way Remy turned out, I can see where your father was comin’ from.”
“I know my father used to gamble.  Sometimes he’d win and sometimes he’d lose but I don’t think he was into nothin’ like Remy.  He did what he could to make sure that me and Ma was all right but I’m sure he ain’t do half the shit Remy done did.  After the time Daddy threw Remy out for kissin’ me, Remy started to change towards him but no matter what, Daddy still loved him like a son.  I’m sure Remy loved him too but maybe he was hurt when Daddy wouldn’t let him see me.”
“But if your mother knew your father didn’t want you with Remy, how come she let it happen anyway?”
“When my father died, part of my mother died with him.  She ain’t hardly have strength to do nothin’.  She ain’t pay attention to Remy always bein’ around because she thought he was just tryin’ to help us out.  When she found out I was pregnant, she was hurt but she tried not to let it show.  She just worked things out with me as best she could.  She didn’t want to loose me too I guess.  She loves her granddaughter but I don’t think she likes Remy that much.”
“Are you into Remy that much?”  Tyler asked.
“I love Remy,” Tracy answered, her eyes filled with devotion and somewhat shaky certainty.
“Are you sure?”  Tyler asked immediately.  He doubted her words and the conviction in her voice.  Her response, hollow as it seemed, stuck an invisible pin in his chest.
“Of course I’m sure.  What kind of question is that?”  Her demeanor became like that of a sick patient who wanted to hide obvious symptoms of sickness from a physician.
“So why am I here?” he asked but silence followed instead of a response.  The recent turbulence in his life, in a short time, had transformed him into something totally different than what he had been.  He started to feel Tracy the way she seemed to be feeling him and as he thought about the way she looked at him, he believed he could be the remedy for her sickness.  The light in her eyes along with thoughts of her thighs infected his mind.  The heat of her body against his started to convince him that she could be his cure as well.
Tyler, you know sometimes I dream,” she started to say.
“Everybody does,” he interrupted.
“And sometimes I have this dream that I’m flyin’,” she continued.  “I’m flyin’ high above everything here and I look down and I understand everything.  I always get scared though because it feels like when them people say they die and leave their bodies.”
“You mean them people who say they died but then came back?”
“Yeah, somethin’ like that, but you know the thing that freaks me out?  No matter what I see at first when I’m up there, I always end up over this big trash dump.”
“A trash dump?”
“Yeah.  And then when I look down, on top of all the garbage, I always see a naked, dirty, little plastic doll with its head broken off, laying beside its body.  In my dream, after I see it there broken and tossed aside, it always starts to rain and I wake up crying.”
“Why?  That’s not so scary?” Tyler asked.
“Because I feel like that broken doll on that pile sometimes,” she answered as tears filled her eyes and as her voice trembled like straw in the wind, she buried her face in his lap.  He gently stroked the back of her neck as she cried.  Then, he lifted her face as he held her chin and examined her tear-soaked cheeks.  He smiled and then wet his fingers with her tears as he wiped her face with his hand.  She grabbed him and washed away his unseen tears with her warm mouth as she kissed him softly but passionately.  When they finally broke from the kiss, both their chests heaved heavily and blood pumped furiously through their bodies.  Tracy threw her legs over his and sat in Tyler’s lap, face-to-face with him.  While she lowered the thin straps of her night dress to expose her full, voluptuous breasts, he lifted the back of it and firmly gripped her behind.  As his lips began with soft pecks on her neck and then chest, they worked together with his hands to explore her curvaceous, femininely soft, sensuous body.  She held his head with both hands, leaned her head back and moaned softly.  Their bodies together caused them both to burn with a fever that had only one cure.  She began to rotate her hips and rock slowly in his lap.  As he became drunk off the rhythm of her body he moved with her.  She put both hands on his chest and leaned him back further in the couch as he teased her and tugged gently on her panties.  Tracy lifted his shirt with her teeth and tasted his chest with her tongue before she lay flat against him, her hard nipples pressed against him.  He hugged her while her hands steadily moved towards his belt.  She stroked his stomach lightly with her fingers after she opened his pants but then, because life, and emotions are unpredictable, she stopped herself.  The better times she remembered with Remy still held her in shackles and as she thought of the daughter she bore him, she touched her own stomach.  As hot as she was at the moment, the ice-cold traces of loyalty that ran through her could not be burned out or melted away.
Tyler,” she whispered, unable to hide the pain in her voice and not certain how to tell him that she needed to stop.
“I know,” he answered.  He tried to avoid forcing her to explain something she probably didn’t know how to.  The sudden change that had come over her was more powerful than if she had screamed for him to stop.
“It’s just that,” she started to apologize while she held his face tenderly in her hands as if he was made of glass.

“Shh,” he told her before he kissed the palm of her hand.  “I should leave.”  Neither one of them said anything as they fixed their clothes and avoided each other’s eyes.  They didn’t speak as they walked to the apartment door and silence still reigned as Tracy let him out.  After the door closed, she leaned against it on her side, completely oblivious to the fact that he lingered on his side, wanting her but lacking the voice to say so.

Copyright © 2009 Keith Kareem Williams. All rights reserved.